


That's how you get the girl(s)

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29721927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: Daisy goes to May's bunk with the excuse of a bottle of wine and hoping to come out with something more between them. Instead, she stays in and gets a lot more than what she was hoping for.
Relationships: Melinda May/Bobbi Morse/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 24





	That's how you get the girl(s)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [26stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/26stars/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, my friend!

Daisy blows out an exhalation, gathers courage, and knocks on the door. 

It’s not her first time calling at May’s bunk by a long shot: they have spent countless nights together here during the last year. It felt weird the first time, going to the bunk of her S.O. to hang out, but May always understands quickly what is that Daisy needs, even if sometimes it is a good drink and sometimes it is a good story. Ever since then, her visits started to be more and more frequent and shifted away from comfort and reassurance towards wanting to spend time together that led to enjoyable evenings they spent talking or even watching a movie together. 

(They have hate-watched more than one superhero movie together, though May insists that Daisy can’t tell anyone because "it is classified", and Daisy has complied. For now.)

But tonight it’s different. Tonight is January 2nd and May just came back from a mission that kept her away from base for New Year’s Eve and New Year. Tonight, Daisy plundered the kitchen for any alcohol left and did a small, silly victory dance when she found a bottle of sparkling pineapple wine and two flutes she didn’t even have to wash. Tonight May will complain that she wants to have a drink, not get a sugar coma, and Daisy will laugh and serve her nonetheless, and then she will drink the fruity taste from May’s lips.

Or, well, that’s the plan, at least. 

No funny business had ever happened any of the other times she has visited May, but she wouldn't label them strictly friendly encounters either. Daisy couldn't put her finger exactly on where the difference lies, but the possibility of something more lingered heavily on the air between them. And after a long year of intimacy growing and getting used to the idea, Daisy is finally ready to act on those feelings. 

But when the door opens, instead of May with a slight smirk on her face, Daisy is confronted with Bobbi in pajamas toweling her damp blonde hair.

“Daisy, hi. Do you need anything?”

Daisy does a double-take to check if she came to the correct bunk, but it is the last one on the south corridor, definitely May’s. Her mouth dries up and it’s equal parts the distracting sight of Bobbi’s eternal legs in full display in her booty shorts and the implications of what this means. Maybe she was wrong and everything she thought was going on between her and May happened only in her head, a projection of her own desires. She can not say she blames May when Bobbi looks like that, all amazonian beauty and charitable smiles.

She rakes her brain trying to think if every other time she met with May Bobbi was on a mission. She can not remember, but at least she is sure that May never mentioned something about them… whatever thing they are. 

“Um, Bobbi, no. Just wanted to, um, leave this for May.” She thrusts the bottle and the flutes in the middle of Bobbi’s tank-top-covered chest and purposefully refuses to focus on the way the pressure on the middle makes her breasts look. “Tell her happy new year for me, will ya?”

Bobbi opens her mouth to reply, but Daisy is fully determined to leave with the last word.

“Daisy.” She has to stop on her hasty retreat when it’s May’s voice calling for her. “Why don’t you stay and we all share the bottle?”

“Um.” The obvious reply should be, of course, no. She does not want to intrude. But May looks so soft in her bathrobe- she refuses, again, to think about the implications of both of them having wet hair- and how does one say no to Barbara Morse’s patented puppy face, Daisy doesn’t know. “Sure, why not.”

May’s bunk looks like a whole different space with Bobbi’s clothes folded over the chair and a bag of toiletries with a design of geometrical birds on top of the night table. Now without the bottle to entertain her hands, Daisy clenches and unclenches her fists anxiously a couple of times. Only thinking about how nervous the same gesture makes Fitz look gets her to stop.

For the first time, she feels like she just stepped into a place that isn’t hers to stay.

May walks out of the bathroom dressed in a black tank top and black leggings- they could be work-out clothes or clothes to use under tactical gear, or pajamas. Impossible to know with May, but either way she looks soft and comfortable enough to help Daisy relax a bit. 

“Happy new year, Daisy.” She places a hand on Daisy’s elbow, and for a second Daisy feels like the room closes off around them. Is May going to hug her? Kiss her? Both? Neither? It’s a momentous occasion and Daisy holds her breath. “Thank you for dropping by.”

There is a loud noise behind them, and Daisy instinctively places her arm in front of May. She has been protected enough: she knows how she wants things to go down the next time they cross paths with danger.

“Sorry, guys,” Bobbi smiles at them apologetically, waving the opened bottle of wine. Daisy lets her arm fall down, a little embarrassed. She does not look at May to seize her reaction. “The cap was a bit stuck.”

Bobbi beats her to the chair, so Daisy has no other choice but to sit on the bed near May. She has ever fallen asleep a time or two on this bed before, but now the unexplained presence of Bobbi has put her on edge, and when they had always been relaxed before, she now leaves a respectful distance between her and May, her back straight.

She is too focused looking at May who settled herself on the bed with her legs in the lotus position that she almost jumps when someone touches her knee.

“Daisy, your drink.” 

There is something like understanding in Bobbi’s eyes while she hands the flute to her, and Daisy starts to feel guilty. She didn’t do anything guilt-worthy with May, but she can’t deny the fact that she wanted to- who is she kidding, still wants to-, and under the weight of Bobbi’s sharp eyes, she is starting to feel uneasy, even if she didn’t know there was anything going on between the two of them.

“Thank you.”

May gets her own flute- Bobbi is using a plastic cup May keeps on her bedside table for water- and just like Daisy predicted, she starts grumbling about the taste as soon as she tries it. Daisy smiles and when she looks to the side, she sees that Bobbi is smiling too. 

“So May told me you got her to watch Star Wars,” Bobbi begins, and Daisy gotta give it to her that she is really trying to ease the awkwardness. “Kudos to you, I never managed that.”

“Well, I paid in blood for that.” She can see May rolling her eyes from the corner of hers, but that only spurs her on. “And by blood I mean push-ups.”

Bobbi clinks her plastic cup to Daisy’s flute, and Daisy realizes she hasn’t tried a single sip. The wine is oversweet on her tongue and leaves her more thirsty than she was before. She can understand why May is complaining, but she won’t say it out loud.

“Haven’t we all?”

“What do you mean?”

May scoffs while Bobbi beams- Daisy feels like she is watching a very particular tennis match.

“Aw, are you embarrassed, May?”

“Not a chance.” May tips her glass, but Daisy knows her enough to know that is less to drink and more to hide her face from view. “You can tell her whatever you want.”

Bobbi leaves the cup on the floor and places her elbows on her knees, her body posture inviting Daisy closer. Daisy lets herself be dragged by the force of Bobbi’s charm and leans so their heads end up just a couple of inches from each other.

“Imagine this,” Bobbi begins, “Barbara Morse, twenty-two years old, still a bit baby-faced and in awe of the Academy, and she finds out that Melinda May,  _ the  _ Melinda May is coming for a seminar, but spots are very limited.”

* * *

The anecdote of how Bobbi got the last spot for May’s seminar by winning a clandestine arm wrestling competition drifts into a string of anecdotes of both of their stays at the Academy (Bobbi tells May’s too, and Daisy has a fairly solid idea of how she came to know them but doesn’t ask) and their early days in S.H.I.E.L.D. Sometimes a May story and a Bobbi story overlap, and Daisy, now laying on the bed, closes her eyes and follows Bobbi’s detailed description with her imagination: she can see them both, younger and more bright-eyed, teasing each other and helping each other and being a solid ground for each other, and she can understand how they ended here together now.

May doesn’t comment, allowing Bobbi to take the reins of the storytelling (and Daisy is grateful even for that much, for May letting her see glimpses of her past even if through someone else). But what she does do is move closer to Daisy till Daisy’s head is almost on her lap, and runs her fingers against the nape of Daisy’s neck. Daisy’s body is covered entirely in goosebumps, and it’s mostly because May’s fingers were cold from the flute, but it also isn’t because of that.

By the time Bobbi seems to have run out of stories, May’s hands have migrated one to Daisy’s jaw, the other to Daisy’s cheek. Her thumbs are drawing lazy circles on Daisy’s skin, and though they are soothing motions they make Daisy almost go into cardiac arrest.

Though she was paying attention to Bobbi, it takes Daisy a handful of minutes to realize that the stories are over; she is too focused on May’s ministrations to worry about anything else. She opens one eye to check if everything is okay, not daring to move in case it disturbs the delicate balance of her position with May, and she sees that Bobbi has also moved, and now her knees are almost touching Daisy’s, her blue eyes very intently fixed on May’s hands, if Daisy can guess correctly. The spy on her is screaming that this feels like an ambush, but the cottony clouds of contentment in her brain prevent her from doing anything about it.

“Daisy,” May begins, and Daisy thought that with the silence the dream state would also be broken, but it isn’t, “did you find what you were looking for in here?”

It feels like there is an unlivable weight on top of her chest, but Daisy manages to push the words past it.

“Why do you think I was looking for something?”

“Come on. A bottle of wine. Two flutes. So, did you?”

The contrast is stark now, with only May talking and Bobbi deadly silent. Daisy looks at her for a long while, and Bobbi holds her gaze. They only break apart when Bobbi licks her lips and the movement distracts Daisy. 

It is a charged question when it comes from someone who has their fingers around your neck. It is a charged question when it comes from someone you love. There is no other way to answer it but with the truth.

Daisy raises her socked foot from the floor and slides it up Bobbi’s shin to her knee and then her lap, both a test of the waters and an invitation. Bobbi grasps it in her hand with a soft squeeze and Daisy inhales sharply. As good a reply as she is going to get.

“Actually, I found more than what I was looking for.”

“Good.” 

May brushes apart her hair, and when she leans down for the kiss, Daisy is already waiting for her with her face turned up, her foot drawing enticing circles against Bobbi’s hip.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
>   * Short comments
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